XL. OLD POETS. ANDREW MARVELL. ANDREW MARVELL's very name suggests the idea of incor: ruptible patriotism. The well-known story of his refusing a court bribe by calling his servant to prove that he had dined three times upon a shoulder of mutton, although probably apocryphal, serves to prove the notion universally entertained of the uncompromising member for Hull; unassailable as Robespierre himself to all money temptations, and strong enough to have resisted the subtler temptations of power. His learning too is generally acknowledged. He shared with Milton the high and honorable office of Latin Secretary to the Lord Protector; was the champion of the great poet's living reputation; the supporter of free principles against all assailants, and is praised even by Swift, not addicted to over-praise, for the keen wit and fiery eloquence of his polemical tracts, nay, the Dean paid him the still more unequivocal compliment of imitating his style pretty closely. As a poet, he is little known, except to the professed and unwearied reader of old folios. And yet his poems possess many of the finest elements of popularity: a rich profusion of fancy which almost dazzles the mind as bright colors dazzle the eye; an earnestness and heartiness which do not always, do not often belong to these flowery fancies, but which when found in their company add to them inexpressible vitality and savor; and a frequent felicity of phrase, which, when once read, fixes itself in the memory and will not be forgotten. Mixed with these dazzling qualities is much carelessness and a prodigality of conceits which the stern Roundhead ought to have left with other frippery to his old enemies, the Cavaliers. But i was the vice of the age-all ages have their favorite literary sins—and we must not blame Marvell too severely for falling into an error to which the very exuberance of his nature rendered him peculiarly prone. His mind was a bright garden, such a garden as he has described so finely, and that a few gaudy weeds should mingle with the healthier plants does but serve to prove the fertility of the soil. BERMUDAS. Where the remote Bermudas ride What should we do but sing His praise Where He the huge sea-monsters wracks Safe from the storms and prelate's rage. He gave us this eternal spring, He hangs in shades the orange bright He makes the figs our mouths to meet; With cedars, chosen by His Hand, He cast, of which we rather boast, Oh let our voice His praise exalt Thus sung they in the English boat, And all the way, to guide their chime THE GARDEN. How vainly men themselves amaze Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, To this delicious solitude. No white, nor red was ever seen When we have run our passion's heat, What wondrous life in this I lead! The luscious clusters of the vine Meanwhile the mind from pleasure less The mind, that ocean, where each kind To a green thought in a green shade. Here at the fountain's sliding foot, My soul into the boughs does glide: Such was that happy garden-state, How well the skillful gardener drew How could such sweet and wholesome hours, Wicked person! I was over charitable in forgiving his conceits. It is not in woman to pardon his want of gallantry. One can only suppose that the unhappy man was an old bachelor. If the last stanza but one be provoking to female vanity, the last of all excites another feminine quality, called curiosity. What does the new dial mean? sun? Is there really nothing new under the And had they in the middle of the seventeenth century discovered the horologe of Flora? THE NYMPH COMPLAINING FOR THE DEATH OF HER FAWN. The wanton troopers riding by Have shot my fawn and it will die. Who killed thee. Thou ne'er didst alive * Inconstant Silvio, when yet I had not found him counterfeit, But Silvio soon had me beguiled. And, quite regardless of my smart, With this, and very well content |